“At a boarding-house?” he gasped. He appeared suddenly from the infinite in the neighborhood of the Burlington Arcade, crossing the pavement toward her and with his eyes upon her. “That thing’s going on,” she told herself. The meat was coarse and disagreeably served. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. They entered a hansom and turned on to the Embankment.
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